


The Phoenix and the Dragon

by megyal



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-14
Updated: 2010-06-14
Packaged: 2017-10-23 04:05:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/246112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/megyal/pseuds/megyal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Situation/Kink</b> [from <span><a href="http://reikokatsura.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://reikokatsura.livejournal.com/"><b>reikokatsura</b></a></span>: <i>Somewhere, somehow, there’s a masquerade party/ball going on... a) masks being worn, b) identities being coveted, and c) either tuxedoes or leather pants to be removed. Neither know who the other person is, but both are almost unbelievably attracted to the other. Bonus points if one of their masks fall of mid-sex.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	The Phoenix and the Dragon

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://serpentinelion.livejournal.com/profile)[**serpentinelion**](http://serpentinelion.livejournal.com/) 's Summer Kink Fest.

The Phoenix wore an elaborate cloak covered in feathers, not his usual fare at all. Those on his shoulders were completely black, but as they descended, feathers with dramatic red ends appeared, increasing in number until there was a layer of deep carmine at the level of his ankles. As per the invitation to the Summer Masquerade, his mask was just as extravagant: a gold-plated section covered his eyes, with large black and red feathers curling around his face and head. The bright piece across his eyes was affixed with a weak sticking-charm, to prevent it from pressing too much onto his face; but he would have to renew it a bit later.

He was particularly glad for the cooling charms woven cleverly his Muggle-style formal-wear worked so well, for the press of the crowd was almost unbelievable; it seemed that every wizard and witch had shown up to this fete. It was being held for the first time in the ball-area of a Wizarding hotel, Apollo's Gate, which had its own appeal of being new, large and fairly exotic in design. Phoenix decided that if he was invited again (and unfortunately there was no reason why he _wouldn't_ be), he would definitely turn it down and simply send his donation on behalf of his office instead. He didn't have a phobia of crowds, but he _did_ dislike all the unwarranted attention. At least the mask concealed his features fairly well. He felt so free without the stares.

He sipped at his frothy, alcoholic drink and turned his head, surveying the teeming mass. Then, his breath caught as his eyes met those of another man, who was standing in a darkened alcove almost completely concealed by a half-drawn tapestry. Phoenix thought his feathered mask had been outrageous, but the one this man wore was intriguing. The green eye-piece had a regular pattern of scales, with very tiny jewels dotted along the bottom edge, barely touching the skin of his cheeks. There were feathers as well, dyed a green so dark that they were almost black; they were attached to the mask and lay flat over the top of his head, fanning out at the back. Phoenix turned around with much deliberation, making sure that the other man's gaze was locked with his before striding in his direction. The man watched Phoenix approach with an appreciative gleam in his shadowed eyes.

"What are you supposed to be?" Phoenix asked without preamble. He leaned his head to one side and looking the other man up and down, drinking in the appealing view: leather trousers that hugged slender legs and thighs, and simple, long-sleeved black shirt.

"A dragon," the other man answered in a very low tone, tilting his own head; ah, Phoenix had thought so. "A sub-species of the Chinese Fireball. And you?"

"I rise from the flames, sweet Dragon," Phoenix answered, leaning close. A part of his mind stood apart in a daze; under normal circumstances, he would _never_ act this way. His job and his life were firmly demarcated, and he had to toe the line with teeth-clenching rigidity; but this Dragon, with his lean, strong body and the watchful expression stirred Phoenix's blood in a manner he had not known it _could_ be stirred. Phoenix leaned even closer, inhaling his scent and watched the Dragon sway slightly towards him. _I'm going to have him_ , Phoenix thought with sudden and blinding clarity, and swallowed hard. He was practically salivating over a stranger in a dragon mask and he had never been more excited. _I shall have this dragon tonight._

A small smile touched at the corners of Dragon's lovely lips. "Are you? The colours of your feathers indicate that you are a phoenix nearing the end of a cycle. But you appear... fairly robust."

Phoenix laughed and stepped closer. The scent of Dragon filled his nostrils. "If you like, Dragon, I can show you just how _robust_ I can be."

Dragon's eyes widened and then his smile grew to match. He slid past Phoenix, the sound of leather rasping against feathers almost completely drowned out by the thumping of the music. "If you can catch me after the festivities," he murmured, "then I would love a demonstration."

*

Phoenix and Dragon orbited each other for the rest of the Summer Masquerade. Their eyes met constantly, burning up a line between them; idly, Phoenix wondered how the persons in the crossfire didn't catch flame. Phoenix didn't know if he was parading for or stalking the other man; needless to say, that as he roamed around in the crowd, Dragon would glance at him ever so often and give him a smile that caused lightning to dance up his spine.

There was one moment that gave Phoenix pause, though: as the party began to wind down, and people stumbled towards the available Floo-points where attendants were waiting to assist, a young woman with her long blonde hair piled atop her head approached the Dragon. She placed her hand on his arm, the skin of her fingers very pale against the dark material of his sleeve. The bright peacock feathers in her mask shivered as she laughed at something Dragon told her; she patted his arm before sailing off regally.

Phoenix stared at her as she stood in line, set apart from the others by her confident and steady stance; her back was bare due to the plunge of her royal-blue gown, and he was noting that there were feathers adorning the material there was well, when he felt a hand press in the small of his own back.

"Why, Phoenix. It seems that I've caught _you_ ," Dragon whispered; his hand slid down and cupped the curve of Phoenix's arse. "What luck, wouldn't you say?"

Phoenix reached around and caught his wrist; he pulled, and Dragon stepped around him as if they were in the middle of a formal dance. Phoenix eyed the black collar of his shirt, which was unbuttoned to reveal the tiny paradise of his neck: the shadowed hollows created by his clavicle, the skin like smooth cream beckoning for just a taste.

"I've never done this before," Dragon said quietly.

"Neither have I," Phoenix admitted, and raised Dragon's hand to press his lips to the warm, fluttering pulse at the wrist. He smiled against Dragon's slightly damp skin when he heard the low sigh.

"I've a room upstairs," Dragon told him as Phoenix released his hand. "The Delphi Suite."

The crowd moved past them like a stream parting around a solidly planted rock. A large man bumped into Dragon, and he pressed himself against Phoenix, who felt a hot hardness riding his thigh and rivalling his own.

"Are you too drunk to apparate there?" Phoenix tried not to rub against him, not out here in public, but his body gleefully disregarded all higher commands.

Dragon moved so close that Phoenix felt warm breath brush against his lips. "I'm drunk on _you_. Hold on tight."

Phoenix slipped his hands around Dragon, and before the whirl of Apparition had properly left his system, he had claimed Dragon's mouth with his own, pressing the other man against the wall of a dimly lit room. He supposed he should be more careful, this was a strange man. Who knew his intentions?

(Although, to be quite honest, Phoenix was less concerned with his intentions and far more interested in how Dragon's tongue curled in his mouth. Dragon's tongue was a slick operator, sliding in between Phoenix's lips in a blatant forecast of upcoming activities).

Phoenix felt a wash of magic and pulled back, looking at Dragon's implacable expression.

"What was that?" he asked, his right hand a twist away from flicking his wand into use. Dragon's smile was slow and predatory.

"Just a spell to test for any transmittable diseases, magical or otherwise."

"You could have _asked_ ," Phoenix pointed out, feeling petulant. Not petulant enough to refrain from tugging Dragon over to the canopied bed, though.

"You could have lied."

Phoenix shrugged off his feathered cloak and removed any remaining inhibitions.. He tugged at the knot of his tie, staring at Dragon as he began to undress as well. By tacit agreement, the masks remained in place; Phoenix thought that it made the situation even more sensual, watching the miles of skin being revealed even as Dragon's face remained hidden.

"You can do the detection spell on me, if you like," Dragon murmured, now peeling the leather trousers down his hips, revealing the thatch of his pubic hair and nothing else; Phoenix distantly followed his instructions, hardly reading the calm waves of the spell as they rippled the clean results back to him. He was quite busy staring at the flex of muscles in Dragon's thighs as the man bent at the waist (and what a _limber_ thing he was), bringing his trousers to his ankles and then straightening to step out of them.

Phoenix cast a hungry eye over the slim body, the half-hard jut of his cock. He sat on the low bed, licking his lips as Dragon sauntered over to him and grabbing the other man by the waist as soon as he was close enough. Without a word, he leaned forward and ran the tip of his tongue around that plump prickhead, relishing the smell, the taste, the low moan Dragon released and how he clenched one of Phoenix's shoulders, fingers crumpling the fine material of the white shirt.

Phoenix suckled lightly, sliding his lips halfway down the shaft as it hardened even more between his lips. He gripped Dragon's hips tightly, rocking him in an urge to fuck his mouth, and Dragon got the message; his entire body undulated to feed his cock to Phoenix, a slow wave that travelled down his body. Phoenix looked up at him and smiled around his mouthful.

Dragon's barely parted lips curved in response.

*

Phoenix watched his cockhead being swallowed by the shiny circle of Dragon's hole, hands holding apart the cheeks of his arse for proper viewing. Dragon made short, eager sounds at the back of his throat, his toes curling and scrabbling in the covers. Phoenix slid one hand down to the middle of his back, pressing down to create a deeper arch and groaning as the flared head finally popped past that tight ring of muscle.

"Oh god," Dragon moaned, one hand working between his legs. The other was braced on the surface of the bed, clutching a fistful of the coverlet with the desperation of a man sliding down a very slippery slope. "Oh, fuck."

"Mmm," Phoenix answered, pulling back to thrust shallowly again. He was lifting one foot to be able to steady himself behind Dragon's writhing body, when the little fixing-charm on his mask began to fail.

"Shit," he muttered, nudging at it with his shoulder. His bloody wand was somewhere nearby, but Dragon clenched around him, tight like a vice and slick and warm, and Phoenix rocked into him again, still very slowly.

"Go on," Dragon snarled over his shoulder, and Phoenix was gratified to see his mask slipping as well. "Fuck me, give it--"

Phoenix leaned over him, grabbing his shoulders and almost climbing up into the man with every thrust. Dragon gasped in time to the quickening rhythm, and then he flinched when Phoenix's mask fell off and struck his back before sliding off to rest on top of the sheets. The sticking-charm had finally succumbed to the combination of aroused magic and sweat.

"Damn it." Phoenix paused in their rutting, blood roaring in his ears, his penis throbbing inside Dragon.

Dragon actually chuckled, turning his head to peer back at Phoenix again. "Well, mine's practically given up the ghost as well, so--"

They both froze. Dragon's mask had slipped to one side to reveal a wide green eye, which frantically tracked the mussed blond hair that had been covered by the Phoenix mask.

"No," Dragon whispered in disbelief; he shuddered lightly and the action caused Phoenix to groan a little and knead the skin at the other man's hips. "...Malfoy?"

"Potter," Phoenix said and if he could have gotten harder, he would have; he was balls-deep in Harry Potter, whose Dragon mask finally collapsed with a soft rustle to reveal the mass of wild black hair. They stared at each other, fully nude and wholly revealed. Draco's prick twitched impatiently and then Potter broke their joined gazes, his head hanging down as if in deep contemplation.

Before Draco could pull out of him (regretfully so), Potter came up from his elbows, sitting back on his heels; his sweaty back was flush against Draco's just-as-sweaty chest, and he began to _bounce_.

"Merlin fuck," Draco swore, reaching around to fold his fingers around the other man's cock. He sank his teeth into Potter's shoulder, slamming up into him as thick, slapping sounds filled the air of the Delphi Suite. He could smell Harry's shampoo, taste his sweat, and he bit him again as Harry's body stiffened up then stuttered, his come spurting hotly over Draco's fingers and pulsing out over the sheets.

Draco pushed him face-down again, harsh in his need to get off inside Potter, on him, _anything_. Potter went back down willingly enough, moaning weakly as Draco pounded into him then tugged out, one hand stripping at his prick for a few seconds before he came all over the cleft of Potter's used arse and those oddly sweet dimples in his lower back.

Their heavy breathing was very loud in the room. Draco moved his legs from underneath himself to sit cross-legged on the bed, staring down at the discarded Dragon mask. Potter shifted away from him, Draco's ejaculate still glistening on his skin. He rolled over and stared at Draco warily, then sat up and shuffled back to rest against the finely carved headboard, pulling up one knee for his arms to wrap around.

"You look rather different without your glasses," was all Draco could say as they regarded each other. He was quite proud of his equable tone, considering the fact that he'd just had sex with the current deputy head of the Aurors, the Golden Boy of the Ministry. Since Draco was the second-in-command at the Potions' labs, the bi-monthly interdepartmental meetings were going to be interesting, to say the very least.

Potter's chin tilted a fraction.

"I was wearing a mask, Malfoy," he said dryly. "The entire aim _was_ to look different."

"Point," Draco conceded, and wondered why he didn't feel more uncomfortable. Potter reached out and snagged the Phoenix mask, turning it over in his hands.

"Luna _did_ say I'd have a fine time tonight, even though I didn't want to be here," Potter muttered to himself. Then he took up the Dragon mask with his free hand and tossed it at Draco.

"When you're ready for another go," he said, green gaze boring right into Draco's head. "We'll have to try again, with all symbolism in their rightful place."

Draco smiled; whatever Loony Lovegood's predictions had been, he was going to strike quite a few items off his list tonight... items that involved his mouth on every part of Potter's skin.

"I do better as a dragon, anyway, Potter. _Far_ better."

Potter arched one dark brow, and then held up the red-and-black-feathered mask to his face.

"Well then, dear Dragon," the Phoenix purred. "We'll just have to see about _that_."

 _fin_


End file.
